Who: Adrian Pucey and Caz Rosier. When: August 7th, 1998. Evening. (Backdated!) Where: Rosier Manor. What: Caz summons Adrian for another test. What he’s testing tonight? A drug. Rating: PG for (forced) drug use and curse words.
Caz had left instructions for Adrian to come to his house after work. He had sensed the reluctance in the young man, and wasn’t surprised by it, but of course he had his acquiescence in the end. All it took was a mention of ‘contacting the Ministry’ or the word ‘Auror’ and he had Adrian in the palm of his hand once again.
He had closed up his shop earlier than he normally did and Apparated home. Rosier Manor was his family’s estate, although now it was his. It had been left to him in his father’s will - along with much of his wealth (his mother got the rest) and he received it upon reaching his age of majority. His mother did live there, sometimes, but she spent much of the year in Russia, at her own family home - she had done so ever since Caz had started at Hogwarts, not wanting to rattle around the large, sprawling manor house on her own.
Rosier Manor was set on a large estate. The manor house had an elegant - and slightly gothic - Victorian feel to it. When the time of Adrian’s arrival drew near, Caz gathered up the things he would need, taking them into one of the sitting rooms in preparation.
All things considered, his first day under Caz's command hadn't gone too badly. He could see in the dark for a good hour after he left the shop, which wasn't particularly useful but at least nothing bad had happened. Once Adrian got home and calmed himself down, it didn't seem so bad. Something about being in front of Caz under his control, basically, made Adrian feel like he was going crazy. When he was away from him it was so much easier to calm down and be himself.
He got the instructions to go to the Rosier estate after work that day. Luckily, none of the matches he really cared about were on that night so he didn't have to worry about breaking any plans to listen to the WWN with his mates. He Apparated to his home first, to change into something more comfortable than his work robes. Adrian put on a pair of black trousers and a plain white t-shirt, lightweight and comfortable. He did not like that he was going to Caz's home. At least before, they were in a shop and it had the illusion of propriety.
Now he was on his own in Caz's world. Adrian found himself thinking about the strange, unsettling man during work at least a dozen times a day; they weren't necessarily positive thoughts, nor were they negative ones, but the man was occupying his mind more than he should be allowed to. Adrian took a deep breath as he fixed his hair in the mirror, combing it down carefully. "It'll be all right," he told himself, but didn't believe a word he was saying. The Floo trip was a quick one to Rosier Manor and Adrian stepped out of the fireplace. Apart from his wand, tucked in the back pocket of his trousers, he didn't bring anything with him.
Caz was waiting for him, as he was in the Sitting Room that held the Floo. So when Adrian arrived, he was seated in a high backed arm chair, hands resting on the armrests, gaze dark, looking like the Lord of the Manor, which was actually the truth of things.
It was nice, with Adrian, not to have to maintain the pretense of being a decent citizen. Although the other had not seen the full depth of his darkness yet, he did not have to act polite or cordial or like he cared about anyone’s life and well-being and that was refreshing. Although he did enjoy the art of deception - and just how easy it was to fool the masses and manipulate them, making them dance like puppets on strings - on occasion it was equally enjoyable to show himself.
“Adrian,” he murmured, and he lifted a pale hand. “Have a seat.” He gestured towards the sofa and other armchairs in the room, as it did not much matter where Adrian sat.
Adrian felt okay for about one minute after he stepped out of the Floo. He brushed the front of his trousers off with the palms of his hands and glanced about curiously. He couldn't help but wonder what the Rosier place looked like. Where Caz lived. You could always tell a lot about people by what they surrounded themselves with. The place was dark, with that old wizarding family feel to it. Then he saw the Lord of the Manor himself, placed amidst it all. Somehow fitting perfectly.
The young man swallowed to clear his throat and stepped further into the room, his hands resting at his sides but his fingers tapping nervously against his thighs. "Hi," he said, not quite sure what else he could say. He moved to the sofa near to where Caz sat and settled on one end, his hands coming to rest on his knees. He watched Caz closely, not entirely trusting of him. Not at all.
"What am I doing here?" he asked him. Adrian tried so hard to harden his tone, not to sound nervous and scared. "The agreement was that I would help you at your shop, not come 'round for tea," he snapped, and that was where the mask slipped. His voice went a bit high at the end, a bit of his worry peeking through.
“I have no intention of feeding you tea, don’t worry,” Caz replied with a simmering smile that was not in the least bit friendly or pleasant. Although tea would likely be safer and more pleasant than anything else Caz might pour down his throat. He did enjoy a good cup of tea, but it was exceedingly rare that he invited anyone over for him. Caz had many acquaintances, but very very few friends. Friends could be a liability, unless they could be thoroughly and completely trusted and were worthy of the honour.
“I have something that you are going to try that is not connected with my shop,” he said, and he lifted a hand, uncurling his fingers. In the palm sat a tiny dark purple glass bottle with no etchings - not like his usual potion bottles, which all had symbols etched into the glass.
“This is something that I’ve already tested. But to be able to observe the effects on a more... long term basis would be more satisfactory.” He rolled the bottle down his fingers, so he could hold it between index finger and thumb. “And trust me, you would rather be somewhere comfortable for this.”
Adrian didn't like what he was hearing and more than he liked the way Caz was smiling at him. He shook his head a bit as he listened. Whatever this was, it was probably illegal, if it wasn't in Caz's shop. Adrian was sure that whatever it was, he shouldn't be involved with it.
The glass looked so harmless laying there in Caz's hand, so small and plain. Adrian found himself staring at it, wondering, especially as Caz started to roll it between his fingers.
He looked up as Caz finished that statement, meeting his gaze and holding it. "What is it?" he asked, still trying so hard not to freak out. Was Caz even going to tell him what he was taking? The thought struck him that maybe he wouldn't even know what he was taking or what to expect and it made his breath catch in his throat. He couldn't do that! "What effects are you talking about?" Adrian more demanded than asked, fear masked neatly by anger.
“It’s called Hex,” Caz replied. The name was not particularly something he cared for - he liked names that were a little more clever or at least descriptive - but that was the point. It was a street drug and needed a street name - and also a name that was not clever and thus wouldn’t automatically be traced to him.
Hex was out on the streets, but just so very recently that it hadn’t made the newspapers or Ministry watch lists or common knowledge... yet.
“It’s a drug,” he added with another dark sort of smile. Caz was very good at making a smile seem downright disturbing. He rose from his chair in a fluid manner and went over to stand in front of Adrian, holding the small purple bottle out to him.
“It is a euphoric and a hallucinogen.” It made everything seem very very nice, and sometimes had swirls of colours or various sounds and images to go along with. It also made a person highly suggestible, which was a bonus.
“Take it.”
Adrian's brow furrowed at the name - Hex - because it didn't exactly sound harmless. In fact, he was about a thousand percent sure he didn't want to take something called that. When Caz went on to describe it his lips pursed, jaw clenching. Adrian's gaze stayed locked on the other man as he moved out of his chair and came closer. If looks could kill, Caz might be at least unconscious.
He didn't like the idea of doing drugs, not with Caz. Maybe not even at all. The Ministry had ways of testing for those things. But if he spoke up about that, Caz would just dangle his leverage over his head anyway so Adrian swallowed back his protests. "Why do you want me to take it?" he asked Caz, reaching out to take the bottle from him. He tried his best to keep himself calm while Caz was so close. The smile on his face made Adrian feel so strange, though. It was unsettling. Disturbing.
"Because I've got to work in the morning, so I probably shouldn't party all night," Adrian's attempt at sarcasm seemed to fall flat to his own ears. He turned the bottle over in his hands, eyeing the contents.
“Because while I have tested in, I’ve not had a chance to observe an individual on it for more than, say, half an hour at a time,” Caz replied smoothly. When it came to homeless people, he could only stand around in alleys for so long before someone noticed. He was too clever to get caught.
But this afforded him the perfect opportunity to sit and watch Adrian for hours, if he wanted. It didn’t much matter to him whether Adrian wanted to or not. He was going to. He would pry open his mouth and dump the potion down his throat if he had to - and that might end up being fun, so he wouldn’t mind that possibility.
“You will be able to make it to work tomorrow. You may be, perhaps, a bit tired, but you will be functional,” he murmured. There was nothing reassuring in his words or his voice, but Caz was not one to sugar coat things.
“Now, are you going to take it willingly, or shall I force you to?” he inquired in a manner that left little doubt that he would force it down Adrian’s throat if he had to.
So he was supposed to be a guinea pig. Again. He heaved a quiet sigh, shaking his head and trying to figure his way out of this. If Adrian didn't think Caz would send that owl, he would've crushed that little bottle between his fingers just to see the drug drip down onto the floor. Minor abrasions be damned. All he could really do was glare, until Caz gave him an option. A way out, or at least a way to make this as difficult on Caz as he could.
Adrian didn't have to follow his every order like some lap dog. If he wanted to observe Adrian all high... well, then, Caz could just get the stuff down Adrian's throat. He certainly wasn't going to help him.
He tossed the bottle back to Caz gently, leaning back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest. "I'm not taking it," he told him, his tone cocky and his chin tipped up. The look on his face was defiant. "Go ahead and try."
Caz had figured it would come to this at some point. That Adrian would try and rebel, to force his hand. The former Slytherin really didn’t know what he was getting himself into. He saw a side of Caz that few else ever saw, true. But thus far, Adrian had only been witness to the very tip of the iceberg that was Caz’s dark and depraved side.
“Is that how you want to play it Little Rabbit?” he crooned out, using a nickname that he was sure would irritate Adrian, given their earlier journal conversation. “Very well, then.” He caught the bottle and uncorked it, dropping the cork to the floor. The House Elf would clean that up later.
“There is something you should know, for your own good. I always get my way.” The hand not holding the bottle shot out and latched on to Adrian’s chin, fingers digging in with an iron grip. He pinched his fingers in along the hinge of his jaw, forcing it open in much the same way a person would force open the mouth of a cat to give it a pill. Once he had Adrian’s mouth open, he dumped the contents of the bottle in and then shut it. He clamped a hand over Adrian’s mouth and nose. “Swallow, or suffocate.”
There was a big part of Adrian that figured there was no way that Caz would actually do it. He'd order Adrian to again or play the blackmail card. So when Caz grabbed his chin so hard, it was entirely unexpected. Adrian tried to keep his mouth clamped shut but Caz's fingers dug in, prying it open. It wasn't open for too long; all Caz did was pour the drug in and then close his mouth again.
The taste was not pleasant. Adrian didn't want to swallow it but Caz's grip on him was strong. He kicked his feet a little, hands going up to claw at his arms to try to get him to let go but none of it really worked. His eyes were wide open, looking up at Caz and the other man's gaze seemed so cold. Adrian's was full of fear, panic making his eyes go wide, tears welling in them. He couldn't breathe. So he had to swallow.
He swallowed a few times, his body still straining against Caz but he was stronger than he looked.
Caz would have let him suffocate if it came to it. His eyes were dead as he watched Adrian, waiting for him to make a decision - to swallow or to try and fight him on it. It would have been a shame to lose a perfect guinea pig, but as it happened, he did not have to worry about that. Before after a few moments, Adrian swallowed.
Caz’s hand slipped down and he pried his mouth open again to make sure it wasn’t a fake swallow. Only when he was satisfied that the potion was gone did he released his hold entirely, returning to his chair to sit down.
“You should start feeling the effects soon,” he said calmly. It would start with a feeling of warmth blooming from within, followed by a feeling of calm and happiness. The sensation that everything was just plain nice and happy and good. And that every physical sensation was a good one - the feel of the air, the touch of fabrics and everything else. It was akin to the Muggle drug ecstasy, only more intense.
It would be very interesting to watch.
Adrian felt his cheeks going red - not pink, but bright, angry red - as Caz pried his mouth open again to check that he'd swallowed. Like he was some animal. Adrian felt such a range of emotions, it was surprising he could keep them all straight - anger, embarrassment, fear, righteous indignation. "Fuck you," he spat the words like he couldn't stand the taste of them in his mouth.
He'd heard somewhere that muggle drugs depended a lot on the state of mind of the person who was taking them. This drug was entirely different. Adrian tried to hold onto his anger and refuse to let the euphoria set in. He tried to cling to his sobriety, but before long he was pulled under. It was warm, a little bit like drinking but completely different at the same time.
Adrian slid his shoes off, his feet pulled up onto the sofa with him. Caz wanted to observe, so Adrian did the best to hide the effects of the drug from the other man. Adrian was certainly feeling it, though. He let his eyes close and his imagination wander. Except that his fingers kept tracing along things, the cuff of his trousers and the seams on his socks.
Caz found it highly amusing - in as much as he was ever amused - by the fact that Adrian took his shoes off before pulling his feet up. Still maintaining that air of politeness even around someone he hated. How quaint.
His wand came out again and he cast a diagnostic spell, letting it hover in the air as it marked all of the various vitals he would want and require for his research. Adrian really was the best guinea pig he could have. Caz had half pondering just building a cage for him somewhere. Maybe with a nice wheel to spin. How many people, he wondered, would truly miss him if he disappeared?
There was quiet, in the house, for a while. Caz was content to observe at first, taking in the little things, the way that Adrian seemed to have a more difficult time sitting still as he started to touch anything. With a smirk like a razor, he got up again and crossed over to the sofa, sinking down next to him. “How do you feel?” he asked. With the suggestibility element of the drug, he had a feeling Adrian would be far more cooperative.
Adrian's eyes fluttered open just long enough to peek up over his head at the data. Everything about him, quantified down to numbers and vital signs, floating over his head. He couldn't hide anything. Adrian's eyes squeezed closed again and he pulled his legs closer to his chest, as though trying to give him something to at least hide his face behind. He wanted to cry just from the sheer frustration of it all - not being able to control his state of mind was scary - but that urge faded away as the drug took over.
He watched the way his fingers indented the fabric he touched, going from trousers to socks to the sofa and noticing how each one was different from the last. He tried to forget that Caz was there, but it was impossible. Adrian forgot, the more time drew on, why he hated him so much and why he was so determined not to look at him. His hand fell flat against the sofa; something moved out of the corner of his eye and he looked up at him, watching as he came closer. Sat right next to him.
"All bollocksed up," was Adrian's answer to that. He didn't unfold his legs or move much at all. The effects of the drug were subtle coming on, but once it had time to settle in, it had a huge impact. His face was flushed, pupils blown, dilated so much there was barely any iris left to see. "How do you feel?" he asked the question right back to Caz, trying his best not to snicker.
“I feel fine,” Caz replied in a smooth and silky voice. “However I am not under the influence of a drug.” This was quite interesting to watch - a user sitting right there in his living room, which was a totally different environment than a dirty, hard, cold alleyway. “However how I feel is a moot point.” It wasn’t interesting to him - he knew how he felt. Which wasn’t much. Caz would be terribly interesting to a psychologist, were they to know the depth of his intellect - and his sociopathy - but he was hardly going to let that happen.
Reaching out, he took hold of Adrian’s chin once again, to turn his head to face him. Fingers slid across the younger man’s cheek, feeling the heat and flush in his skin. That was not worrisome though, but just an effect of the drug. It did increase blood flow to the skin, among other things.
“Do you like the feel of your trousers?” he inquired, as Adrian did keep fingering the fabric like it was some kind of wonderful.
Caz's voice was something incredible. It was like it curled around Adrian's ears like smoke or maybe fog, heavier and thicker than smoke. He smiled faintly when Caz pointed out that he wasn't on drugs, and gave a slight shrug of one of his shoulders. "And whose fault is that?" he pointed out. In the next moment Caz had his chin in his hand and Adrian looked up to meet his eye. His heart skipped a beat almost right away, but Adrian had long since forgotten about his vital signs.
He blinked slowly, sort of owlishly, at the question and glanced down toward his hand. He did seem to be petting the cuff of his trousers. "They're not as soft as my socks," he answered absentmindedly. It was the truth. "I don't really like things that are soft," Adrian explained. The double entendre didn't occur to him immediately.
A second later, it did. He snickered, trying to pull back from Caz's grip. His chin was going to have bruises if he kept getting grabbed by it, he thought.
“Is that so?” Caz asked wryly, not missing the double entendre, or the nuance of that particular statement. He was a clever individual, and had noticed certain reactions that Adrian had, that did not really fit with certain nerves. Perhaps it was nothing, or something to write off, but perhaps it was something to explore.
He did not let Adrian escape his grip. His hand followed him, and his fingers dug in hard enough that his nails left crescent moon indents in his flesh. Caz’s grip was a tight one, and there wasn’t really far that Adrian could go, not trapped between Caz and the arm of the sofa as he was.
“Tell me, Little Rabbit,” he murmured in a low voice, his dark eyes glittering. “What things do you like?”
It hurt. Pain was different now than it normally felt. It was a fact - not something that bothered him, but a condition to be noticed. Like the weather. Adrian made a quiet sound regardless, a soft complaint that welled up in his throat like a mewl. He didn't try to pull back after that, not when he felt Caz's nails digging in. He stay still, eyes wider when he looked up at Caz again.
"It hurts," he tried to complain but the unanswered question hung over them. Adrian swallowed, squirming a bit but not really trying to pull away. For some reason when Caz called him Little Rabbit it gave him a shiver right up his back. It wasn't that he liked it, it just sounded so sinister. It wasn't a good shiver or anything.
"I like the way I feel right now," Adrian answered him. His hand was still tracing, this time along the seam of one of the sofa's cushions. "A lot of things," he started. He wasn't supposed to tell Caz, but it was hard to remember why or even what it was that he was supposed to keep secret. Something about things he liked. Adrian tested out Caz's trousers then, just the hem of them, to see if they were rougher than his own. "And I don't know all of them," he finished his thought a few moments later, almost long enough to forget that he was saying something.
“And?” Caz asked, arching brows, and silently asking the question ‘does your pain matter to me?’. It didn’t, in a concerned way, but it did in that it was possibly something he could exploit and use to his advantage. Like so many things, he was interested in what he could use - in the strings he could pull. And right now, he saw a rather large, red string dangling and ripe for the plucking.
Caz dragged his fingernails along the angle of Adrian’s jaw-line, and then down his throat, leaving red welts in their wake, although he did not pierce the skin. “I think you know, Little Rabbit,” he murmured, scratching his nails up his throat and down once again. Red lines, all over that pretty white skin.
“You just don’t want to tell me.” He traced the tip of one finger along the indent that was Adrian’s collarbone. He could feel the Slytherin’s fingers toying with his trousers, as if they were something fascinating and exciting.
“I think you need to stand up,” he said, because he wanted to test out the suggestibility factor of the drug.
His heart was going faster and faster, and for a few moments the scrape of those fingers was the only thing that existed in Adrian's world. It didn't hurt enough to distract him or pull him out of his happy little daze. Up and down his throat, those nails scraped. His nerves were singing. His head tipped back a bit when Caz scratched up, just enough to offer a fraction of an inch more of skin.
Adrian realized, when he heard Caz's voice again, what he was doing. That he wasn't in control of himself. He was acting like an idiot. "I can't say it," he breathed the words as though they were a secret, his eyes opening again. He smiled. Caz's trousers were a little softer than his own, which was strange. That anything about the man would be soft or gentle. It really figured that it was just his trousers.
He heard Caz suggest that he stand up and Adrian's lips pursed in what could only be described as a momentary pout, before it faded away and he slowly uncurled his legs from where they rested, spreading them out in front of him. He didn't really want to stand up, but maybe he should. Adrian got his legs under him and climbed up off of the sofa and to a standing position, looking down at Caz, questioningly.
"You probably already know anyway. You think you know everything," Adrian pointed it out to Caz.
Dark eyes followed as Adrian rose, and a smug, cat-like smirk formed on his face at the swift obedience. He did wonder if he could ‘inspire’ such obedience in him even without the use of the drug. Despite the way he presented himself, Caz was beginning to think that Adrian was not someone who would truly balk at taking orders.
Caz rose as well, standing and looking down at Adrian. “I do know a great many things.” He was a voracious accumulator of knowledge, of information, of facts and data, of history and the present and the possibilities. He was also uncannily observant, and very good at picking things up about other people.
“You can say it,” he said, stepping towards him, curling a hand in Adrian’s shirt to hold him in place, just in case he tried to go somewhere. “I won’t tell a soul.” Which was true, but that was because he wasn’t one for sharing things with other people in general, and certainly wasn’t going to be talking about this little encounter.
“Tell me,” he commanded.
Adrian held his breath when Caz stood up. He didn't know why, but for a moment he didn't even dare to move as the other man stood up next to him. He was just a little bit taller than Adrian was, so he had to tip his head back to meet his eye. He could feel Caz's fingers curl up around the fabric of his shirt, holding him there, not actually touching him but it was close to it. Adrian didn't pull away, but he did sway slightly on his feet as though he was on a boat that was rocking. The room as a whole was rocking, just slightly.
At first, it seemed like he was making a humming sound. "Mmm," he started, and that was the first part of his answer but it didn't want to come out all the way. He laughed - more of a giggle, really - and slouched a bit to one side, glancing down and away from Caz. It was embarrassing! Adrian didn't admit these things. Not out loud. Merlin, he barely even admitted them to himself.
"Maybe," he said but that wasn't it. He looked up at Caz. The tone that he used was so forceful sometimes that Adrian found himself wanting to obey. It was some instinct he didn't know he had. "Maybe it's mmm," he started and leaned closer to whisper it to Caz's ear. Somehow that was easier. "Men?" he asked more than told him, a suggestion coupled with innocently raised eyebrows.
Caz waited for an answer. He had ample patience when it came to getting things that he wanted, and he did not think he’d have to wait all that long for Adrian to come out with it. Not under the influence of the drug that would loosen his tongue and everything else. That razor sharp smirk came back to him as Adrian leaned in, to tell his big big secret, whatever it may be.
“You like men,” he echoed, purring out the words. “Well, I cannot say that surprises me.” Not that Adrian was obviously gay, or flamboyant in any manner - Caz was just particularly observant, and had wondered about some of Adrian’s reactions in the shop. The increased heart rate, the flushing, the things that weren’t entirely explained away by the potion or nerves.
“And tell me, Rabbit,” he murmured, turning his head to the side a little bit so he was looking at Adrian from the corner of his eye. “What else do you like?” As soon as he spoke those words he caught down on Adrian’s ear and bit down, rather hard.
Adrian was falling deeper and deeper into this euphoria, his head spinning so nicely. Everything was warm, starting in his middle and fanning out all the way to his fingers and his toes. He found himself leaning closer to Caz. And his lips were dry, so he let his tongue flicker out to wet them. He blinked a few times up at the other man, his head tilting when he said it didn't surprise him. "Why not?" he asked him quietly.
Caz made him smile faintly, calling him Rabbit again. "It's a hare," he insisted, his tone more teasing than contrary. He was racking his brain to come up with an answer to that - what else did he like? But he completely forgot his question or what they were even talking about when he felt Caz's teeth against his ear.
Adrian moaned, reaching up to curl his fingers around Caz's shirt, giving the fabric a tug as if to pull him closer. He didn't move, lest he accidentally take his ear out of Caz's mouth. Evidently, a good bite was something that he liked, judging by the tone of that sound he made and the desperate way he seemed to pull Caz closer. "That," he breathed his answer.
“I see how you react,” Caz replied in a low voice. “In ways that cannot be explained away solely by ‘nerves’ or the potions I’ve given you.” Maybe another person, a less shrewdly observant person would brush it off as either of those things, but Caz Rosier did not. Especially not now.
“It may be a hare-” Which was a ridiculously fitting thought, really. A patronus was one bit of magic Caz couldn’t, and never would be able to, cast. He was too dark for that. “But you, Adrian, are a rabbit.” And Caz would bet that he could even make Adrian jump like a rabbit.
He released Adrian’s ear and dipped his head further. “I know,” he breathed. He bit down on the soft skin of his throat, enough to leave teeth marks in his flesh. “But would you admit to that when you weren’t on Hex?” he said musingly. He thought that would be less likely - and thus, he planned to make it happen. To make Adrian reveal all to him - and to submit to his will.
Adrian's lips twitched slightly, turning downward in something like a frown for just a moment. "I hate how I can't hide anything from you," he murmured, shaking his head. It really was very unsettling, for someone to see through him like that. The distressed feeling didn't last for very long. Maybe it wasn't so bad, if Caz was going to do things like nibble on his ear. His face was already red, but if it wasn't, he'd be blushing.
He tried not to laugh when Caz called him a rabbit, shaking his head. "I'm not a rabbit," he protested, his sentence ending abruptly when Caz's lips moved down to his neck, biting his throat harder than he needed to to get the point across. Adrian couldn't help himself; his grip on Caz tightened, his knees actually going weak for a moment before he got himself back under control.
"No, never," he admitted, breathless. "Ever." Adrian didn't know what to think - not that he really could think about much of anything, right now. Was Caz interested in men, too? In him? Adrian didn't know whether he was hoping for that or against it; everything he felt was just a big jumble, where Caz was concerned. "What do you like?" he came out and asked him.
Caz lifted his head then so he could look Adrian in the eyes. “We’ll see about that,” he replied, and he decided that it would be his goal to see that Adrian did admit it while completely sober. It was easy enough to get him to admit to things while he was drugged out of his mind, but when he was completely without the influence? That would be the bigger challenge, and thus, that would be all the more entertaining.
“You will,” he decided, as if by speaking those two words it made it so. His eyes glittered with a promise that went along with his words, a purely predatory look, and Adrian might as well have been a rabbit right then, because Caz had him in his sights.
What he liked was far more complicated a question, for it was questionable as to whether ‘like’ was even an applicable word for someone like Caz who did not experience normal emotions, but merely mimicked them for the purposes of blending into society. Still... “Screams. Pain in others. Fear. Death.” Both of those in other people as well, naturally. “Making people bend to my will.”
"I highly highly highly doubt that," Adrian said, his voice just a bit of a slur, words coming out rather slowly. He tried to match the kind of look Caz gave to him, staring him right back in the eye. A predatory look on him was probably just about as distressing as a predatory look on the rabbit, though. "Because I don't tell anybody. I don't even like to think about it." The Hex was opening his mouth, loosening his tongue.
Adrian shifted his weight. He really wanted to sit down, but there was a reason why he couldn't. Or at least Adrian was pretty sure there was a reason. Then he wasn't thinking about sitting at all anymore, because Caz answered his question. For a moment, Adrian bit his lower lip and stared at the man, brow furrowed, expression somewhere between searching and curious.
For some reason, he believed him. That he was some kind of, Adrian didn't know what, a sadist or something. Adrian tried to tear his stare away, but he couldn't. His teeth dug into his lower lip harder; it kept him grounded. His head was feeling very funny, maybe from a mixture of fear and the Hex.
"Can I sit back down?" he asked Caz.
“But you already told me,” Caz pointed out with a cat-in-the-cream look on his face. “The cat, Little Rabbit, is already out of the bad. I know your weaknesses.” Which apparently included having his ear and his neck bitten.
“You’ll see,” he said again, and then stepped away from Adrian, so that he could move away. There was more Caz could have done, but with the influence of the drug, it would have been too easy - and would have given Adrian something to blame.
When Adrian was sober and still submitted to him - that would be different. Then he would have to admit to it.
“You can sit down,” he said, gesturing with a hand toward the sofa. “In fact, you can lay down, if you’d like.” He knew one of the effects of the drug was eventually drowsiness and the desire to drift into pleasant-but-strange dreams. “By all means.”
"Just 'cause you drugged me," Adrian quipped back, his gaze following Caz as he moved away. "It's all the Hex's fault," he added with a nod. It was impossible to unravel the things he felt - he could barely wrap his mind around this growing fascination he had with the other man, even after what he'd just said. It had to be the drugs, he kept telling himself.
He hummed an agreement and stumbled just slightly when he moved to make himself comfortable on the sofa, taking Caz's advice to lay down, stretched out on his back with his arms over his head. His body was left open, vulnerable, certainly less guarded in general thanks to the drug. Adrian certainly felt like drifting away. His eyes were closed even before his head touched the sofa.
"You're only the second person to ever know," he spoke, a dreamy quality to his voice. "The first one was the guy who... who I," he started but trailed off, a lazy smile pulling at his lips at the memory.
“Mmm, but now I know,” Caz said languidly, returning to the chair he had previously inhabited and sliding into it again, lounging there in a very feline manner - like a giant panther, resting for the moment but ready to spring and attack at any moment.
“Which will make it all the easier to get you to admit it again.” Because he could use all the little bits of knowledge he had been gathering in order to wring the admittance out of Adrian again. The second time would be even sweeter, because Adrian would fight it all the harder.
“Fucked,” he filled in when Adrian trailed off, the word knowing and dark. “Or let fuck you, more likely.” He didn’t see Adrian fucking anyone. He was having an inkling that this young man was more the type to roll over and bear his belly, with the right stimulus. He could hear the drifting tone of Adrian’s voice.
“We’ll discuss this again, Rabbit,” he promised.
Adrian was already hovering somewhere between asleep and awake, his eyelashes fluttering a little. He felt so good, he just wanted to lay back and feel it, like waves crashing over him. "I let him fuck me," he sighed his agreement. It'd hurt but that was a little bit of why he liked it. It was so visceral and real.
The smile on his face didn't fade away. Merlin, he was going to regret all of this later, if he even remembered spilling his guts to Caz. It was bad enough to tell anyone, but someone who was already blackmailing him... no, that wasn't good at all.
His hand came to rest on his stomach, his head tipped back and neck exposed as he started to drift off. "'m not... rabbit," Adrian murmured, barely moving his lips as the words came out. He wasn't asleep but he certainly wasn't conscious either. His body was completely languid. It went on for a long time - he couldn't even tell how long, exactly, maybe even hours until he fell asleep entirely.